


if it ends like this, you win

by daydoodles



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (but not really), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, College, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Intense discussions of the High School Musical trilogy, M/M, Murder, Rated teen & up for innuendos and abuse of memes mostly, Stupidity, also some swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 06:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13001940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydoodles/pseuds/daydoodles
Summary: "Just because he murdered you doesn't mean he doesn't have a crush on you."





	if it ends like this, you win

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK, BITCHES.
> 
> My first time writing for Haikyuu in almost two years and this is not only the longest thing I've ever written, it's also the stupidest. I mostly wrote this to get familiar with writing the characters again before I do my Secret Santa piece, but honestly who even knows what happened here. I sure as fuck don't.
> 
> The general premise is from [here](http://alloverthegaf.tumblr.com/post/142223814231/alloverthegaf-alloverthegaf-its-murder-time), but this is also inspired by my time in uni - most notably, that one time my school put on a fake zombie apocalypse. It was chaos, y'all.
> 
> Also last thing, the title's from [this song](https://youtu.be/RZ7HbLbwi68) which is completely irrelevant to the fic, I just suck at naming things.

**From: Makki~☆**

emergency meeting

4th floor study room, 5 mins

 

**To: Makki~☆**

is this what i think it is

 

**From: Makki~☆**

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

**To: Makki~☆**

seriously

 

**From: Makki~☆**

swiggity swurder it’s time for murder

 

-

 

Tooru washes off the face mask he’d been wearing, little bits of green clinging to his fringe, and sighs at the mirror. Why Makki waited till now to do this is beyond him, but he will admit they need to have some sort of plan; they don’t want a repeat of last year. He scrubs some more at his hair in an attempt to get the remnants of the clay out, and once he’s moderately successful, he arranges his hair to hide what’s left of the face mask, slips on his shoes, and heads down the hall.

 

“You’re two minutes late,” Hanamaki says as soon as Tooru walks through the door. The little study room is empty, since no one ever uses it anyway, and Matsukawa is sitting on the couch across the room looking bored. Then again, that might just be his face.

 

“I was doing my weekly face mask, I know you know that,” Tooru huffs as he plops down on the cushion next to Matsukawa. Hanamaki is too busy messing with a roll of trash bags to respond. He puts it on top of a pile of what Tooru assumes are supplies, walking away from the table to face Tooru and Matsukawa.

 

“Alright, troops, I’m sure you know why we’re here.” Tooru rolls his eyes, Matsukawa gives a half assed salute, and Hanamaki seems satisfied with both responses. “First things first, we form an alliance.” He clenches his fist in the air for dramatic effect.

 

Tooru cuts him a look. “Only one person can win, though. I don’t think I trust you two assholes enough to put my life at your mercy.”

 

Matsukawa shrugs. “Probably a good life decision.”

 

Hanamaki waves him off, turning to Tooru. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Oikawa, my boyfriend and I will gladly share our prize should one of us win.”

 

“But the whole point is that I want to win.”

 

“No, you want the expensive ass vodka the winner gets,” Matsukawa supplies unhelpfully.

 

“Exactly, so if we share it, it’s a win-win-win,” Hanamaki offers.

 

“I think you’re both greatly overestimating the size of this bottle of vodka. Could we even all get drunk if we share it?”

 

“Don’t be an alcoholic, Oikawa,” Hanamaki scolds. Tooru just glares at him. “Anyway, we don’t have to keep an alliance the whole time. I think it’s smart to travel as a group as much as we can to begin with, though, at least till the potential threats start thinning out.”

 

“You got a point there, babe.” Matsukawa shoots finger guns at Hanamaki.

 

“Thanks, I know.” Hanamaki does finger guns back.

 

Tooru feels a headache coming on. “Okay, so we’ll stick together at first. Shouldn’t we show each other our victims’ names before we officially agree to it, though?”

 

“Awh, Oikawa, are you afraid we’ll betray you?” Hanamaki bats his eyelashes in a (very unsuccessful) attempt to look innocent.

 

“Yes.”

 

“To be fair, you’re probably not wrong.”

 

“See, Makki? At least Mattsun admits it.”

 

“Fine.” Hanamaki sighs. “We won’t make it official till tomorrow morning. Now, onto more pressing matters!” He grabs an armful of junk from his pile on the table and tosses it at Tooru. “We need to murder-proof this floor, since apparently we’re the only ones here with any will to live.” He tosses another part of the pile at Matsukawa.

 

“Uni does that to you,” Tooru mutters as he gathers up all the stuff Makki had given him.

 

“True, but we’re strong. We can survive these trying times,” Matsukawa deadpans.

 

“Oikawa, you’re on lightbulb duty. Issei, you’re in charge of hanging sheets. I got dibs on the staple gun.” Hanamaki claps his hands. “Break!”

 

They start at the opposite end of the hall. Matsukawa covers the doors and windows with sheets, hanging them securely from the ceiling, leaving only just enough room in the doorways to walk through to avoid any gaps. Tooru unscrews every lightbulb he can reach, except for one in the centre of the hallway to allow at least a bit of visibility for people trying to get into their rooms. Hanamaki covers any lights that can’t be unscrewed with the garbage bags, stapling them right into the ceiling - which Tooru thinks he should probably not be doing, but whatever. By the time they’re done, the hallway is almost pitch black, and the hanging sheets give off an eerie vibe as they sway gently with the current of the air conditioning. It looks like a scene from The Purge.

 

“Perfect,” Hanamaki says, promptly assuming the Pacha pose. Matsukawa dabs.

 

“I hate you both,” Tooru groans, and he half wishes he’ll get one of their names tomorrow.

 

-

 

There’s a knock on Tooru’s door just as he’s putting his shoes on the next day, and he’s glad he got ready for class early. He saw this coming.

 

“Who did you get?” Hanamaki asks the millisecond Tooru’s door is open. He and Matsukawa rush into the room, shutting the door behind them.

 

Tooru picks his plastic knife up from the floor, where it’d been sitting since it was slid under his door last night, and reads the name. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

 

Hanamaki furrows his brow as Matsukawa asks, “Who’s that?”

 

“I think he’s in my calculus lecture.” Tooru shrugs. “Who do you guys have?”

 

“Tsukishima Kei,” Matsukawa reads off.

 

“That’s so not fair, isn’t he that music major who literally always wears headphones? That’s like the world’s easiest target,” Tooru whines, and Matsukawa smirks.

 

Hanamaki, for his part, ignores Tooru’s protests. “I got Bokuto Koutarou. I have no idea who that is.”

 

“Is he that guy who always gets emotional in chem lab?” Tooru offers.

 

“You mean the one who looks like his fursona would be an owl?” Hanamaki counters.

 

“I mean, I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yeah. Thanks, now I can’t unsee that.” Tooru pouts, and Matsukawa high-fives his boyfriend.

 

“So what’s your strategy?” Hanamaki asks, turning his attention back to Tooru.

 

“Strategy?”

 

“Personally, I’m gonna be living in the dining hall till further notice,” Matsukawa explains.

 

Tooru squints at him. “You know you’re also immune in your room, right?”

 

“And also when you’re naked, which is why I’m only gonna wear a towel for the foreseeable future. If anybody tries to murder me I can just drop it, and bam! Instant immunity!” Hanamaki does a crude approximation of jazz hands. Matsukawa waggles his eyebrows.

 

“First of all that’s gross, and second of all I don’t have a strategy. I’m just hoping my natural charisma saves me.”

 

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Matsukawa says. “Maybe think of a plan B.”

 

Hanamaki checks his phone, then tugs on Matsukawa’s sleeve. “Issei, we gotta go. I have thirty minutes till class starts and I still need to get my towel.”

 

Matsukawa nods. “Later, Oikawa. Good luck.”

 

“At least kill your victim before you die this year,” Hanamaki says. He blows Tooru a kiss, then they’re gone.

 

Tooru sighs, tucking his knife into his pocket. He has calculus at 2pm today, so he’s hoping he’ll be able to get this over with and murder Kuroo as soon as possible. Of course, after that he’ll have to kill Kuroo’s target, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there. It might be easier to just wait it out, he muses, but where’s the fun in that?

 

After spending longer than he’d like to admit to find his glasses, Tooru grabs his bag and braces himself to face the cruel world that lies outside the safety of his dorm room. He more or less knows what to expect by now, after two years of experience, so he’s got a slight advantage over the freshmen and sophomores, at least. He hopes that’s enough to help him survive. He doesn’t really think it will be.

 

He opens his door, pokes his head out to survey the hallway, and squints into the darkness. Their work last night had been thorough, so it truly is hard to see anything in the dim lighting, but Tooru can tell that there isn’t anybody else in the immediate vicinity, thankfully. He steps out of his room, locking the door behind him, and rushes to the stairwell. It’s best not to use the elevator, he’s learned; last year he got stuck in one with his murderer and found himself with no escape route in the tight space. He’d been killed in seconds.

 

He can’t see into the stairwell because of the sheet Matsukawa hung over the door last night, but he opens it anyway and hustles down the three flights of stairs, taking them two at a time. The door on the first floor isn’t covered with anything, so Tooru peeks through the small window in it to see if anyone is in the lobby. It looks deserted, aside from the desk aide on duty, so he heads outside, crossing through the parking lot in the direction of the science building.

 

He’s basically power walking across campus, eyes roaming sporadically to keep an eye out for any potential threats. Last year, Hanamaki got ambushed by his murderer, who’d hidden behind a fountain, so Tooru’s paranoid that his assailant might do the same. Or something similar, anyway, because he’s actually nowhere near the fountain at the moment. There’s a row of bushes, though, and he eyes them suspiciously as he breezes past. Nothing of note happens, and he makes it to class without incident. He thanks the universe that most uni students can’t be bothered to take 9am classes, so his mornings probably won’t be too riddled with violence - even if it is only pretend violence, it’s still too early in the day to deal with that.

 

He sits in the back row, so no one can stab him in the back, literally, like Matsukawa’s murderer had done last year. No one seems to be too awake at this hour, even though they all appear to be ever so slightly more aware of their surroundings than usual. Everyone in the lecture hall is side eyeing each other, casting suspicious glances in every direction, like they all assume their would-be murderer is in this particular biology seminar. The odds of that happening are pretty slim, so Tooru doesn’t think much of it. There’s this one guy in the corner with choppy hair who keeps glaring at him, but the dude has always seemed grumpy so Tooru isn’t bothered. He just flashes him the smile he usually reserves for his admirers, and gets his laptop out to take notes.

 

After a couple minutes of tension, the whole class seems to calm down considerably (which, Tooru thinks, is a great opportunity to make a move, if anyone’s victim happens to actually be in this class). Everyone else finishes unpacking their notebooks, pencils, and whatever else they need to feel secure in their education, and the professor finally enters the room. The students collectively let out a breath of relief; the chances of being murdered with a professor there to witness it are slim to none, even if the professors themselves could care less about the whole ordeal. Tooru’s professor does make a quick comment about it now, but all she says is not to let it disturb her lecture, and then she moves on. So does the rest of the class, for the most part.

 

Tooru can still feel eyes on him, that uneasy sense that someone is studying him, for whatever reason. He figures it’s not worth noting, since it’s most likely that if his potential murderer was in the room, they would’ve gone after him by now. This game is notorious for the speed with which the students turn on each other, after all - Tooru heard from Kindaichi last year that a girl actually broke up with her boyfriend because of it. Her boyfriend was shitty, though, so if you ask Tooru it was probably an excuse. But no one asks Tooru about these things; he’s great at empty charm, but commitment, not so much.

 

His eyes scan the room absentmindedly, distracted by the jitters of the first day of Murder and the constant plotting he’s been trying to do since he found out his victim’s name. The professor is rambling on about the development of the nervous system (he thinks), but Tooru is too busy people watching to do much of anything about it. He’s always been pretty good at reading people; it’s one of the reasons he’s so charming, and now he’s hoping it will save his ass before he gets killed off. None of his classmates seem to be acting out of the ordinary, that he can tell, besides the obvious stress they’re all feeling from the threat of their imminent demise. But then his gaze makes its way back over to the hot guy with the chunky hair, and they lock eyes.

 

The guy looks away quickly, which of course only makes it more obvious he’d been looking at Tooru, but Tooru’s considering denying it anyway because it would really suck if this dude was destined to be his murderer. He’s not very tall, but he’s buff as all hell, and Tooru is in pretty good shape but jesus, he’s not ripped. This guy is, and he also has his signature disgruntled look on his face, which makes him look even more intimidating. And unapproachable, in a weird way. (Not that Tooru thinks it’s intentional, or even accurate, but the point still stands.) The guy shifts in his seat, and Tooru can see the flex of his bicep as he moves to get a planner out of his backpack, and simultaneously welcomes death and fears for his life. His metaphorical life as represented by plastic cutlery.

 

Needless to say, Tooru retains absolutely none of the information covered in the lecture, and by the time his professor dismisses the class, he’s half fantasising about all the ways his mystery man might bring him to an end. Which is ridiculous, because Tooru doesn’t even know if the guy is meant to murder him - and he probably isn’t, because he’s out the door by the time Tooru can even stand up from his seat. If he needed to kill Tooru, he would’ve done it by now. Probably. Either way, Tooru has more pressing matters to worry about.

 

He spends his entire English lecture concocting ways to bring Kuroo down, and while his plots get increasingly more dramatic as class drags on, he does have a few solid options. The best plan of action is probably to attack either right before or right after class, he reasons, since the movement of the other students might make his approach a bit less obvious. Or he could play the backstabbing card, but that seems like a bit of a low blow, plus he has no way of knowing if he’ll even be able to sit behind Kuroo. Ultimately, how he goes about the murder will probably depend mostly on how the situation unfolds. He decides to just take the first opportunity he sees, which isn’t technically much of a plan, but it satisfies him for now.

 

The professor dismisses class after what feels like five seconds, and Tooru sighs because he really should be paying more attention to his schoolwork. He’s not easily distracted, really, but he has a goal and dammit, he’s going to achieve it. Even if that goal is something as inconsequential as fake-murdering one of his classmates for a third of a bottle of vodka.

 

He meets up with Hanamaki and Matsukawa for lunch, since they have a couple gap hours at the same time, thanks to Hanamaki’s insistence on coordinating their schedules. Tooru thinks it’s probably so Hanamaki can mooch food off of him, but whatever. Hanamaki eats a surprising amount for someone his size, and Matsukawa has to deal with it when they go on dates, so Tooru’s willing to give up a bite or two for free during the week. He heads up to the counter by the doorway, and hands over his meal card to be swiped before walking through the double doors.

 

He spots them nearly as soon as he enters the dining hall, Hanamaki’s flash of pink hair standing out amongst the crowd. Tooru waves at him to announce his presence, and heaves a dramatic sigh, grateful for the break from being on constant alert that the immunity of the dining room offers him, grabbing a tray so he can get his lunch. He much prefers the restaurants on campus over this, but restaurants don’t grant immunity, and Tooru is in survival mode. Sacrifices must be made.

 

He settles on a burger and fries, because it seems to be the hardest thing on the menu to fuck up, and grabs a drink on his way to the table. He plops down across from his friends, and Matsukawa eyes him.

 

“So, any updates?” Hanamaki pipes up, because of course he does.

 

Tooru squirts ketchup onto his tray, shrugging. “Maybe? I think I might know who my wannabe murderer is.” He furrows his brow. “Well, either that, or he’s got a really sudden, really obvious crush on me.”

 

“Oh?” Hanamaki quirks an eyebrow.

 

“I don’t know, he was staring at me for my whole psych lecture. And, like, squinting.” He drowns a fry in ketchup, popping it into his mouth.

 

“Maybe he’s just trying to figure out why you’re so -”

 

“Blindingly beautiful? Probably, yeah, you’re right.”

 

Hanamaki glares at him. “I was gonna say ‘obnoxious,’ but you sort of just proved my point here.”

 

“Just keep an eye on him. If he was gonna murder you, he probably would’ve gotten it over with already so he could move on to the next victim,” Matsukawa interjects as he steals a pickle off of Tooru’s plate.

 

Tooru swats his hand away halfheartedly. “That’s what I thought too, but it’s not like this is a thing he does on the regular.” He hums, considering. “Or ever, for that matter. Why else would he just randomly start staring at me, if he doesn’t want to kill me?”

 

“Maybe he’s studying you so he knows what not to become, as a person.”

 

Tooru huffs before taking a bite of his burger. “Makki, you suck.”

 

“Yeah he does,” Matsukawa says with an eyebrow wiggle. Hanamaki winks at him.

 

“ _Moving on_ ,” Tooru says loudly before the other two can devolve into any more innuendos, “how has it been so far for you guys?”

 

Hanamaki grins impishly. “My towel plan is flawless. No one’s even come near me.”

 

Tooru rolls his eyes. “That might just be because they think you’re a pervert.”

 

“Nope, it’s definitely because they know I have no shame when it comes to saving my metaphorical life for some free booze.”

 

“Is that better?” Tooru asks, incredulous.

 

“Not really,” Matsukawa mumbles.

 

Tooru turns to him. “What about you, Mattsun?”

 

Matsukawa smirks. “While you two were busy foolishly focusing on defense, I took the offensive approach.” He pulls out two plastic knives from his pocket and sets them on the table with a flourish. “Already claimed my first victim, working on another.”

 

“What? How?” Tooru objects as he looks at the new name Matsukawa’s gotten: Akaashi Keiji. That doesn’t exactly help, since Tooru has no idea who that is, but at least he knows it isn’t him.

 

“You said yourself I had the easiest target.” Matsukawa shrugs one shoulder. “Tsukishima didn’t hear me coming, and I purposefully made as much noise as physically possible. Dude doesn’t give a shit about Murder.”

 

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Hanamaki says.

 

“Well, same. But anyway, who’s this person?” Tooru holds up the knife with Akaashi’s name scrawled on it.

 

Matsukawa glances at the knife, then says, “I don’t really know. I think maybe he’s an art major, or at least that’s what Kunimi said. But I have no clue what he looks like, so who knows how I’m gonna find him.”

 

“It’s also gonna be hard to find him when you’re sitting here all day,” Tooru says as he gestures to the dining hall in general.

 

Matsukawa wags a finger, scolding. “Ah, my young Padawan, you have much to learn. Why do you think I stay here?”

 

“You said it was for immunity,” Tooru says flatly.

 

“It is,” Matsukawa agrees, “but there’s another reason. Everyone has to eat, right? And everyone wants a chance to relax without having to watch their back. Right?”

 

“Right…”

 

“So everyone comes here at some point in the day. No matter who I’m looking for, they’ll come straight to me, and all I gotta do is follow them out the door when they leave and quench my thirst for blood!” Matsukawa slams his hand on the table for emphasis. Hanamaki golf claps.

 

Tooru blinks several times, baffled. “That’s so dumb.”

 

Hanamaki throws a hand against his chest in mock offense. “Don’t call my boyfriend dumb!”

 

“I didn’t, I called his strategy dumb.”

 

“It’s better than not having one,” Matsukawa says pointedly.

 

“My plan hasn’t failed yet, Mattsun.”

 

“Because you haven’t had to use it yet,” Hanamaki snorts. “Wait till your squinty fanboy tries to kill you, then you’ll see. It’s the worst plan ever.”

 

“Rude!”

 

“Maybe, but it’s still true.”

 

They spend the rest of their free time fighting over Tooru’s fries (which Tooru repeatedly reminds them can be purchased literally ten feet from where they’re sitting), and attempting to strategise their movements between classes. Tooru still isn’t convinced it’s necessary to travel in a group, and he doesn’t really want to be seen in public with a half naked Hanamaki more than absolutely necessary, but to be fair it’s kind of a moot point since Matsukawa all but refuses to leave the dining hall when he doesn’t have to be in class. Tooru points out that they’ve been fine on their own so far, anyway, and that placates Hanamaki for the time being. At least Tooru can make it through the rest of the day without witnessing his friend being arrested for indecent exposure. Tomorrow’s another day, but he’ll take what he can get.

 

Tooru heads off before the others do, since he actually has to pay attention to his surroundings to avoid being murdered instead of relying on loopholes and cheap tricks. His calc lecture is all the way across campus, which is unfortunate, but he just pushes his glasses farther up his nose and braces himself for another anxiety-inducing power walk. He hasn’t made it two minutes into his journey before witnessing a triple murder on the quad. He hikes his backpack up higher in his determination, and walks even faster.

 

The lecture halls in the math building are set up like stadium seats, so it’s hard to avoid being close to his classmates, and Tooru won’t be able to see if he sits near the back, so he resigns himself to settle for a seat somewhere in the middle of the room. The distinct bedhead of Tooru’s victim is nowhere to be seen, so he can’t really pick a good vantage point for killing; instead, he’s forced to sit randomly and ask the universe for the favour of Kuroo sitting next to him. Or at least not on the opposite side of the room. He’s not asking for much.

 

His classmates trickle in as Tooru shuffles around in his backpack, getting out his laptop and textbook and generally trying not to look like he’s planning a murder. There’s a soft thud as a body occupies the seat next to him, and Tooru’s gaze shifts up to meet Sugawara’s.

 

“Kou-chan!” he says with a devilish grin; he’s only known Suga for a semester, but he gets the feeling Suga will help him with his nobel cause. “Have you seen this person around lately?” He digs the plastic knife out of his pocket and slides it over to Suga so that no one will overhear his victim’s name.

 

Suga looks at the knife, glances back up at Tooru, and nods. “He should be here soon, I saw him walking his boyfriend to class. I think they think they can fight off each other’s attackers or something.” Suga does not seem impressed by that plan of action, and Tooru gets flashbacks to his conversation with Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

 

“Do you know where he usually sits?” Tooru asks as he slides the knife back into his pocket. He may be observant in general, but he can’t possibly pay attention to every single person in his classes.

 

“Front of the room, towards the right,” Suga responds without missing a beat.

 

Tooru thanks him and prepares to move to a better position, but just then Kuroo saunters in through the door with a misleadingly lazy grin on his face. Even from here, Tooru can see his sharp eyes surveying the room for potential threats as he makes his way to the front of the lecture hall. Kuroo plops down in a desk which is indeed toward the front and off to the right, and Suga cocks an eyebrow at Tooru as if to ask “What now?”

 

While Tooru admits that yes, moving seats now for no apparent reason would be embarrassingly obvious, and compromise his whole objective, he thinks he has a way around it. “Follow my lead,” he whispers to Suga, and glances at the clock. They have ten minutes till class starts, he can work with that.

 

Suga, meanwhile, is catching on that Tooru’s up to something, and he has a mischievous glint in his eye. “You better sell it,” is all he says.

 

“As if I could ever be lacking in drama,” Tooru retorts, which makes Suga choke on his own spit at how true it is. “Keep it together, Kou-chan,” Tooru scolds.

 

“Just get on with it already.” Suga’s still grinning like the cat who got the canary. Or, well, maybe that’s just his smile.

 

Tooru leans his elbow onto his desk, head propped up in the palm of his hand. “So, Kou-chan, who’s the antagonist of the High School Musical trilogy?” He flashes a smile, saccharine.

 

“Obviously it’s Sharpay,” Suga says with an exaggerated huff. “What kind of question is that?”

 

Tooru gasps, leaning back in his chair as if he’s been personally insulted. “How dare you? Sharpay Evans is the victim here!”

 

Suga squints at him. “She literally tried to sabotage everything Troy and Gabriella did ever, though?”

 

“Well sure, but it wasn’t because she hated them or anything!” Tooru furrows his brow, like he’s actually giving this considerable thought. Suga knows he probably is. “She only did it because _first of all_ , she was raised in a way that encouraged her demanding nature and never established healthy boundaries. Her parents set an example that taught her that people can always be bought, and they got away with whatever they wanted because they were rich, so why shouldn’t Sharpay? She didn’t know how to respond when Troy and Gabriella didn’t fit that mold! So she lashed out.”

 

Suga raises his voice slightly, like he’s emotionally invested in this. “And what’s the second of all?”

 

“Well obviously, her other motive is self-preservation. All she wanted was to make a musical she could be proud of, and Troy and Gabriella had to go and fuck it all up, so she was just trying to get back what they took from her. Which is totally justifiable! And, like, her versions of the songs were always better, for the record. I love Kelsey, but her original compositions are just so...boring.” Tooru gets progressively more worked up as he talks, and Suga barely holds in a laugh as he wonders if Tooru even remembers the goal of this conversation at all.

 

“I’ll give you that one, Sharpay knows how to put on a show. But don’t you think she’s childish? And what about how she treats Ryan?” Even Suga is getting into it at this point. Half the class has turned in their seats to watch the confrontation, including Kuroo.

 

Tooru sighs, exasperated. “You have to remember that she’s in high school, probably what, like sixteen? Sixteen year olds are childish, Kou-chan.” Suga scoffs, but Tooru ignores him. “And the way she treats Ryan is horrible, sure, but he also lets her get away with it! We condition people to treat us a certain way, let them know what we’ll allow, and Ryan let her walk all over him for so long that it just became second nature.” Suga starts to interject, but Tooru presses a finger to his mouth to shut him up. “It’s still wrong, and I’m not saying it’s Ryan’s fault or anything, because she totally should have owned up to that and fixed it herself, but she only did what he let her do.”

 

Suga moves Tooru’s hand out of the way so he can speak before Tooru starts rambling again. “Okay, suppose I buy all this. Who’s the real villain, then?”

 

Tooru smirks. “Not who, _what_. The true antagonist of the High School Musical trilogy is societal norms and stereotypes. Like, that song about the status quo? That’s the whole premise, right there. Society says you have to pick one, jock or theatre, nerdy or artsy, masculine or feminine; but people aren’t that simple. Troy can like basketball and acting in musicals, Gabriella can be smart as hell and also have a killer voice, and Zeke can be a jock who bakes. The complexities of our personalities are what make us human. It’s in our nature!”

 

Suga levels his gaze as Tooru finishes his assessment. “I still think Sharpay is a bitch.”

 

“The _audacity!_ ” Tooru shrieks, and now the half of the class that hadn’t been listening in on their conversation definitely is. “I can’t be friends with someone who would blaspheme the Evans name like this. Goodbye forever.” With that, Tooru gathers his things and stomps off toward the front of the room. Suga, for his part, at least pretends to be hurt over it.

 

Tooru throws himself melodramatically into the seat next to Kuroo, who simultaneously looks amused by the whole situation and absolutely mortified on Tooru’s behalf. “Can you believe him?” Tooru laments as he once again gets his laptop ready.

 

Kuroo just blinks at him. “Well, yeah. I don’t think the High School Musical movies are all that deep, bro.”

 

Tooru turns to face him slowly, fixing Kuroo with a menacing glare. “Excuse me?”

 

Kuroo swallows loudly, but he doesn’t look like he’s particularly opposed to the idea of Tooru relocating to the other side of the room (again). “I just…it’s a Disney Channel movie?” he says, as if he’s trying to justify his opinion. “I doubt they really put that much nuance into it.”

 

Tooru leans forward, clearly making Kuroo want to bolt for the door, and not caring one bit. “Do. Not. Blaspheme,” he says, and angrily pokes Kuroo’s chest with his plastic knife.

 

It takes about three seconds for Kuroo to register what’s just happened, till he looks down and sees his name scrawled on the knife that’s currently pressed against his sternum. He blinks, once, twice, three times, then looks up at Tooru with utter betrayal in his golden eyes. “Not cool, bro.”

 

“Hand over your knife, Sharpay-hater.”

 

Kuroo does at he’s told, and the class abruptly bursts into cheers. Tooru stands, takes Kuroo’s knife with a flourish, and bows to each section of seats. After his third bow, he blows kisses. Kuroo looks like he wants to melt into the floor. Suga waves Tooru back to his original seat, leaving Kuroo to stew in his failures both as a murderer and as a Disney Channel kid, and just as Tooru’s getting settled the professor walks into the room. He can surely sense the lingering tension, but rather than getting involved, he just shakes his head and starts his lecture.

 

Suga leans against Tooru ever so slightly. “Nice kill,” he whispers with a tiny fist bump.

 

“He deserved it,” Tooru whispers back.

 

“True,” Suga agrees. “And for the record, I don’t think Sharpay is a bitch. I just needed you to hurry it up before you made me laugh and ruin the whole thing.”

 

“I know, Kou-chan. I know.”

 

Thankfully, the rest of the lecture goes by without any conflict, and Tooru actually manages to pay a modicum of attention to what the professor’s saying, by some miracle. He doesn’t really retain most of it, honestly, since he’s dying to know who his next victim is, but he tries. Sort of. He takes notes, anyway.

 

When they’re dismissed from class, Suga waves a quick goodbye before booking it to his next class on the opposite end of campus, and Tooru’s immensely glad he’s done for the day. He looks down at his newly acquired knife, and the name scribbled in Sharpie on the blade: Daichi Sawamura. This is too perfect.

 

-

 

**To: Makki~☆, Mattsun♡**

meet me at the campus coffee shop asap

i have big news (˘▽˘)

 

**From: Mattsun♡**

is ur news about how thirsty u are for the barista bc dude we been knew

 

**To: Makki~☆, Mattsun♡**

no u bitch

but it is about him

 

**From: Makki~☆**

excuse u, issei isn’t a bitch

 

**From: Mattsun♡**

i’m ur bitch babe

 

**To: Makki~☆, Mattsun♡**

just shut up and walk i’m waiting

 

-

 

Exactly fourteen minutes later, Hanamaki and Matsukawa have gotten their drinks and joined Tooru at his table, where he’s been nursing a skinny vanilla latte and spying on his next target for the past ten minutes. Matsukawa takes the seat next to Tooru, facing the bar, and Hanamaki sits across from them begrudgingly.

 

“What’s the big deal?” Hanamaki asks, glancing over his shoulder at none other than Daichi himself. He’s taking an order, and it’s about the most anticlimactic thing to ever happen.

 

Tooru doesn’t say a word, just pulls the knife out of his pocket and shows his friends the name. “Holy shit,” Matsukawa breathes.

 

“You’re gonna kill the object of your affections?” Hanamaki wails dramatically. “Oikawa, I expected better from you, a hopeless romantic, of all people!”

 

“Shut up you idiot, he’s not the object of my affections.”

 

“But you think he’s hot,” Matsukawa counters.

 

“Obviously, but that means nothing because so does everyone else on the planet. He gives off major dad vibes, who wouldn’t be into that?”

 

“But wait a minute,” Matsukawa asks, ignoring Tooru’s daddy issues. “What about Kuroo?”

 

Hanamaki’s face suddenly lights up, and his smile widens into the most shit-eating grin Tooru’s ever seen in his life. “Didn’t you hear, babe? He was murdered in cold blood because of High School Musical.” He glances pointedly in Tooru’s direction.

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

“I needed a distraction!” Tooru cries in a helpless attempt to defend himself before Hanamaki can say any more. “I couldn’t just walk up to him and stab him, I needed a reason!”

 

“And High School Musical is what you came up with?” Matsukawa asks as he shares an incredulous look with Hanamaki.

 

“I had to stage a fight with Kou-chan so I could move seats, and that was the only thing I could think of to argue about that wasn’t an actual issue!”

 

“‘Had to’ seems like a bit of a stretch,” Hanamaki says. Matsukawa nods in agreement.

 

Tooru presses his fingers to his temples. “We’re getting off topic here. Do you want to help me murder Daichi or not?”

 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa share a look, and have an entire conversation in the span of three seconds without saying a word. They both nod, and Hanamaki asks, “What’s your plan? Please don’t tell me you’re gonna cause another scene.”

 

Tooru smiles sweetly like he’s not up to something. “I won’t, I just need one of you to spill your coffee.”

 

“No thanks. Spill your own coffee,” Matsukawa says without missing a beat.

 

Tooru’s face falls. “Ugh, fine. I have to do everything myself.” He picks up his mug, drinks most of what’s left of his latte, and promptly dumps the rest onto the table. It dribbles down onto the dark fabric of his jeans, which makes him glad he can go straight back to his dorm after this, and he stands before any more damage can be done.

 

He walks over to the bar, and he thanks the universe that there isn’t a line, so he can stride right up to where Daichi’s standing and lean against the countertop as Daichi politely asks, “Can I help you?”

 

Tooru puts on his most charming smile, trying to dazzle Daichi as a distraction from his impending murder. “I’m so sorry, I spilled my drink! Do you have a wet rag I can borrow?”

 

Daichi waves him off. “I’ll clean it up, don’t worry about it. Where are you sitting?”

 

Tooru leads Daichi back to the table, where his friends are intently focused on Hanamaki’s game of Pocket Camp to avoid blowing Tooru’s cover. If they looked up, they’d definitely laugh and ruin everything, and they’re both smart enough to know Tooru would promptly take them in Daichi’s place if they did. They have more self-preservation than that.

 

Daichi starts wiping up the mess that was once Tooru’s latte, and even goes so far as to ask if Tooru needs it remade. Between that and the flex in his forearms as he swipes the rag across the table, Tooru really needs to be put out of his misery. He doesn’t even answer the question, which earns him a weird look from Daichi at first, but then Tooru is pressing the plastic knife into Daichi’s ribs and it all makes sense.

 

“You killed me,” Daichi deadpans. He looks down to where Tooru’s still holding the knife to his side.

 

“Thanks for cleaning up my mess,” Tooru offers, and Daichi shakes his head.

 

“I’m not remaking that latte,” Daichi says as he hands over his own knife. Hanamaki and Matsukawa lose their shit. Daichi walks away before Tooru can say anything else.

 

As Tooru’s looking after Daichi, debating whether or not he should follow him and apologise, he notices the guy with the spiky hair and biceps watching them from his own table on the opposite side of the coffee shop. He figures it’s just because his friends are so obnoxious, but he still whispers, “Look, it’s my maybe murderer,” even though said murderer is halfway across the room. Hanamaki and Matsukawa follow the direction of Tooru’s gaze, and make small noises of approval.

 

“Oh. He’s hot,” Matsukawa says intelligently.

 

“I want him to punch me in the face,” is Hanamaki’s way of agreeing.

 

“Excuse me, you’re missing the point here. If he tries to murder me I’ll never escape with my life!”

 

“I don’t see how being murdered by him would be a problem.” Matsukawa raises his eyebrows. “Maybe he’ll put you in a headlock, if you’re lucky.”

 

“You two are both disgusting, do you know that?”

 

“Not like you weren’t thinking it,” Hanamaki snickers.

 

“At least we don’t have a daddy kink.”

 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Mattsun.” Tooru glares at him, trying to be intimidating, but it doesn’t work. It never works on Matsukawa.

 

“You said Daichi was hot because he reminds you of a dad. How else could that possibly be interpreted?” Matsukawa stares at him, waiting for an answer. He smirks at the beat of silence as Tooru hesitates.

 

“We’re way off topic here. How am I supposed to avoid getting murdered if that’s what I’m up against?” Tooru laments.

 

“Get a towel,” Hanamaki says.

 

“Welcome death,” Matsukawa argues.

 

“I hate you guys. I hate you so much.” Tooru puts his head in his hands.

 

Eventually, Hanamaki and Matsukawa finish their drinks, and the three of them walk back to the dorm in a huddle, at Hanamaki’s insistence. Tooru would argue that it’s completely unneccesary, but they’re all going the same place anyway, and he mostly just wants to get back to his room and change out of his coffee stained pants, so he lets it be. It’s too early for dinner now, so they head straight upstairs (quickly, since visibility is still alarmingly low) and resign themselves to eating in their rooms tonight. They’ve all had a wild day anyway, they need some time to relax.

 

The rest of Tooru’s night passes in peace, and he’s never been more grateful to have a single room.

 

-

 

**From: Makki~☆**

shit i need ur help

 

**To: Makki~☆**

it’s 3am wtf

 

**From: Makki~☆**

i got issei as my next victim what do i do

 

**To: Makki~☆**

what?? when did u kill the owl guy

 

**From: Makki~☆**

while he was too busy ranting to me in chem lab about how my “best friend” killed his bf for not liking sharpay

 

**To: Makki~☆**

ur welcome

 

**From: Makki~☆**

not my point here

how will i murder the love of my life

 

**To: Makki~☆**

all’s fair in love and war

and this is both

 

**From: Makki~☆**

shut up i can’t stab my boyfriend

 

**To: Makki~☆**

then lose

 

**From: Makki~☆**

i hate you

ur no help

and u totally passed up the chance to send me that obama meme

are we even friends

 

**To: Makki~☆**

what

 

**From: Makki~☆**

thenperish.png

 

**To: Makki~☆**

go to sleep

 

**From: Makki~☆**

fine but ur helping me figure this out in the morning

 

**To: Makki~☆**

(눈_눈)

 

-

 

Tooru looks down at the most recent addition to his collection of plastic cutlery, and his mouth drops open.

 

“Hanamaki Takahiro,” he reads, like saying it out loud will make any difference. “Well damn.”

 

There’s a knock on the door, and Tooru knows who it is before he opens it but he really wishes he were wrong. But, since the universe apparently hates him (or maybe he’s finally used up all his Murder luck for the year), when he swings the door open, Hanamaki’s stood in the hall, holding up his own plastic knife.

 

Tooru moves over to let him in, and Hanamaki’s gaze catches the knife in Tooru’s hand. “Who’s next on your hit list?” he asks.

 

Tooru doesn’t say anything at first. He just drags the blunt end of the knife across Hanamaki’s neck, then shows him the name written on it. “I’ll kill Matsukawa for you.”

 

Hanamaki gasps, scandalised. “You ass, you didn’t have to kill me first!”

 

“You’re the one who came into my room.”

 

“I trusted you,” Hanamaki says as he starts fake crying. “I trusted you so much I didn’t even wear my towel here!”

 

“Your mistake, really.” Tooru shrugs.

 

Hanamaki narrows his eyes at him. “You said you were worried about being betrayed by us, but you were the one plotting betrayal all along! Was it all a lie? Is this entire friendship nothing but a scam?!” He waves an accusing finger at Tooru.

 

“I literally just found out you were my next victim one minute ago,” Tooru says flatly.

 

Hanamaki cuts him a look. “Dude, you’re killing my vibe. At least let me have my emotional betrayal scene.”

 

Tooru sighs, then clears his throat. “You’re right, this was my plan all along!” he says as he flips his fringe out of his face dramatically. “These past two and a half years, I’ve only been getting close to you and Mattsun so I could one day take the prize that is rightfully mine!” He cackles for effect, clenching his fists in the air.

 

Hanamaki gets right back into character. “Rightfully yours? _Ha!_ My boyfriend deserves that prize more than you ever will, and I’ll guard him with my life to make sure he gets it!”

 

“Why are you guarding my life from Oikawa?” says a voice from the door, and Tooru and Hanamaki turn to face Matsukawa.

 

“Issei! Let me defend your honour!” Hanamaki shouts as Matsukawa walks into the room, the door closing behind him with a thud. “You fool! That was your only chance of escape!”

 

Tooru lunges forward, but Hanamaki jumps in front of Matsukawa. “With god as my witness, I’ll take what’s mine!”

 

“Over my dead body!”

 

“I already killed you!”

 

It finally clicks for Matsukawa. “Oikawa, you were a traitor all this time?!”

 

Tooru momentarily stops wrestling with Hanamaki, smirking. “Indeed, it is I who will take the prize! Wallow in your failure!” He pushes Hanamaki to the side, and digs the knife out of Hanamaki’s pocket. “Matsukawa Issei,” he reads, “Prepare to die!”

 

Hanamaki karate chops his forearm repeatedly, but Tooru still manages to poke Matsukawa in the forehead with the knife, after some struggling. Matsukawa promptly throws himself on the floor.

 

“The betrayal!” he hollers as he clutches his chest. “It pains me more than your blade, sir!”

 

Hanamaki drops to his knees at Matsukawa’s side. “Tis but a flesh wound! You’ll be fine, Issei! Be strong!”

 

Matsukawa grabs Hanamaki’s hand. “I’m sorry...my love...I can go on no longer. Avenge me!” He flops back onto the carpet.

 

There’s a beat where they stay frozen like that, but then Tooru checks the time on his phone and realises he really needs to get going to class. “Not to dishonour the dead or anything, but I need to leave.”

 

Matsukawa stands up, and Hanamaki brushes the lint off his back. “Here’s your victim,” Matsukawa says as he hands Tooru the knife. “Kozume Kenma.”

 

“You got Akaashi?” Tooru asks as he takes the knife from his hand.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I was coming to tell you guys, actually. Ran into him at the library with Kunimi last night.”

 

“Damn babe, nice!” Hanamaki high fives him.

 

“Well congrats, Mattsun, but I really do need to go to class now,” Tooru says as he shuffles them out the door. He takes a moment to gather his things, then he steps outside, too.

 

He looks around the eerie hallway, quickly surveying his situation, and finds only Hanamaki and Matsukawa in sight, so he sprints down the stairs and out of the building in record time. He flicks his eyes over his surroundings as he walks just two buildings over, glad that his psych class at least isn’t too far from his dorm. It’s an 11am lecture, so the majority of students are starting to get out and about campus, and any one of them could be his murderer. It sets Tooru on edge, being surrounded by so many suspects.

 

He makes it to class without a problem, though, and sits in the back row once again. He’s not too tense as he waits for the lecture to begin, since his professor is already at the front of the room, fiddling with his projector. Tooru knows it’s doubtful anyone will murder while a professor is there to witness it, and so does everyone else. It’s a small comfort, and he and his classmates revel in it. Or at least, the ones who haven’t yet been murdered do. The dead ones don’t care much what happens at this point.

 

His psych class is uneventful, as is his biology lab, and after that he grabs a quick bite to eat by himself in the dining hall. He would’ve invited Hanamaki and Matsukawa to come have lunch with him, but he only has an hour between classes today and they’ll probably opt to eat at a restaurant on campus anyway. They don’t need to worry about immunity anymore, after all. Tooru, for his part, stays in the dining hall as long as possible before trekking over to the math building for another day of calculus.

 

Kuroo shoots him a halfhearted glare when he walks in, but other than that, nothing seems amiss. Tooru doesn’t even notice the new face sitting in the back row, too distracted by relaying the events of the previous day to Suga.

 

“And I swear to god, Kou-chan, it was the most melodramatic thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Mattsun and Makki should really get into acting.”

 

Suga laughs. “You know, I don’t think the world is ready for that.”

 

“Fair point.”

 

Suga suddenly shifts in his seat, gaze flicking over Tooru’s left shoulder. “Hey, have we always had a super buff dude in this class?”

 

Tooru purses his lips. “Nah, there’s one in my bio lecture though. He’s got this weird choppy hair and he squints at me a lot.”

 

“Like that?” Suga points.

 

Tooru tosses a glance over his shoulder, and sure enough, it’s his maybe murderer maybe admirer, in all his grumpy, muscled glory. “ _Exactly_  like that.”

 

“Is he stalking you?” Suga asks it seriously, but he doesn’t really seem all that concerned about the matter.

 

“I think he’s trying to murder me.”

 

Suga cocks his head. “Then why didn’t he do it yesterday? It’s not like he couldn’t take you.”

 

Tooru huffs. “I don’t know, maybe he was distracted by my dazzling smile.”

 

“Or suffocated by your ego.”

 

Tooru swats his arm. “Mean, Kou-chan!”

 

“The truth hurts sometimes.” Suga smirks. “But really, what are you gonna do about him?”

 

“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

 

“Well you better get there, or you’ll be dead by the end of class.”

 

Their professor walks to the front of the room then, cutting any planning Tooru may have done short. He spends the whole lecture stressing, and periodically glancing back at his buff murder boy, and shooting Suga helpless looks, silently begging for help. Unfortunately, Suga’s only offered plan is to make a run for the door the nanosecond class is let out. Tooru’s murderer may be stocky, but all that bulk probably slows him down. Theoretically.

 

It doesn’t matter, in the end, because when class is dismissed the guy is standing next to Tooru before he can take two steps. Suga must have been wrong about all that muscle affecting his speed. And evidently, when it comes to attractive boys, Tooru’s fight or flight response becomes nonexistent.

 

“Hey,” the guy says, and Tooru stares.

 

“Uh. Hey,” Tooru replies eloquently. He wants to kick himself. Suga pats him on the back and makes a break for the door, the little shit.

 

“So, the thing is,” the guy says as he takes a step closer to Tooru, “I heard you killed two of my friends.” _He’s friends with Kuroo and Daichi?_ Tooru thinks, but doesn’t say anything about it. It occurs to him that maybe he should move out of reach, but his legs have lost all functionality.

 

“And if I did?” he asks flippantly. Maybe he can bluff his way out of this.

 

“I know you did, they told me all about it.” He takes another step forward, so he’s right in Tooru’s space. They’re the only ones in the lecture hall at this point. Tooru’s going to die and there won’t be any witnesses.

 

“And?” Tooru repeats.

 

“And I’ve sworn to avenge them! Die, traitor!” he roars, and Tooru’s life flashes before his eyes as the guy lunges to poke him in the stomach with the end of his plastic knife. His murderer flexes with his other arm, and then Tooru dies for real.

 

“Amazing! Bravo!”

 

“You’re our hero!”

 

Wait. Tooru would know those voices (and that irritating golf clapping) anywhere. He turns abruptly on his heel. “Makki? Mattsun? You did this?”

 

“No, Iwaizumi did it,” Hanamaki sasses back from his spot next to Matsukawa in the doorway.

 

“No, you idiot, I meant you put him up to it?”

 

The guy - Iwaizumi, apparently - shakes his head and lifts up his knife. “I’ve had your name the whole time, but you always caught me looking so I didn’t know how to make a move without you noticing. Then this morning, after you killed them, Hanamaki and Matsukawa found me and told me your schedule so I could use the element of surprise.” He grins, like it’s a great story.

 

“You betrayed me?!” Tooru nearly yells at the other two.

 

“You betrayed us first.” And well, Matsukawa has a point there, Tooru will admit.

 

“But still! Now none of us will get the vodka.”

 

“I might,” Iwaizumi cuts in. Tooru shoots him a look. “What? They made me promise to split it if I won. Actually, they wanted to cut you out of the deal, too.”

 

“He wouldn’t let us replace you,” Hanamaki grumps.

 

Tooru has very mixed feelings about this whole ordeal, and he says so. “But for the record, Iwa-chan, you better win this so my death isn’t in vain,” he says sweetly.

 

“What about our deaths?!” Hanamaki hollers the same time Iwaizumi mumbles, “Iwa-chan?” Matsukawa just rolls his eyes.

 

-

 

**From: ✧Iwa-chan✧**

so murder’s officially over. are you guys coming for vodka or nah?

 

**From: Mattsun♡**

it’s a date

 

**From: Makki~☆**

babe u gotta share iwaizumi tho

 

**From: Mattsun♡**

hmm no thanks

maybe if ur lucky he’ll share his vodka with u

 

 **To:** **✧Iwa-chan✧, Makki~☆, Mattsun♡**

share with me too

 

**From: Makki~☆**

no get ur own bf

 

 **To:** **✧Iwa-chan✧, Makki~☆, Mattsun♡**

makki u have a bf don’t be greedy

 

**From: ✧Iwa-chan✧**

i wasn’t actually part of the deal you know

 

**From: Mattsun♡**

doesn’t matter

oikawa’s only in this to get in ur pants either way

 

 **To:** **✧Iwa-chan✧, Makki~☆, Mattsun♡**

NOT TRUE (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

 

**From: Makki~☆**

save it we all know the truth

 

**From: ✧Iwa-chan✧**

if you guys keep this up i’m gonna drink the whole bottle myself

 

-

 

“It sucks that we didn’t win,” Matsukawa says as they walk to Iwaizumi’s dorm. He kicks a rock across the sidewalk.

 

“Yeah, but he bought us vodka, so it’s not really a loss,” Hanamaki says. “And besides, Oikawa finally got to meet his secret admirer.” He nudges Tooru in the ribs with his elbow, painfully.

 

“He wasn’t my secret admirer,” Tooru grumbles as he rubs his side. “It’s only been two weeks since he murdered me, how could you forget about that already?”

 

“Just because he murdered you doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a crush on you.” Matsukawa wiggles his eyebrows, which is quite a power move considering how much presence his eyebrows have anyway.

 

“But it means that’s why he was staring at me.”

 

Hanamaki hums, considering. “I don’t know how anyone could have a crush on you.”

 

“Makki, you dick.”

 

“He does have a nice one,” Matsukawa interjects as Hanamaki goes in for a fist bump.

 

“And you wonder why anyone would like me. Have you met yourselves?” Tooru runs a hand down his face.

 

“We’re not the one who’s single.” Hanamaki sticks out his tongue, because he’s a five year old.

 

They finally make it to Iwaizumi’s room, and Matsukawa knocks on the door sharply. Iwaizumi opens it a couple seconds later, and Tooru once again begs the universe for mercy. He really cannot handle this. What has he done to deserve being subjected to seeing Iwaizumi in a tank top when he can’t even do anything about it?

 

Well, he could. But not right now. Right now he’s going to get drunk with his two best friends and their newest addition to the squad, and he’ll deal with the rest in the morning.

 

-

 

In the morning, he’ll wake up hungover on Iwaizumi’s floor, and Iwaizumi will press aspirin and a glass of water into his hands. In the morning, Iwaizumi will take a shower before Tooru does the same, to wake themselves up and wash away the night before. In the morning, Tooru and Iwaizumi will sit on the couch, huddled close together, and watch shitty daytime TV while they wait for the other two to wake up, and Tooru will think maybe he doesn’t need to rush it because he’s happy right now in this simple moment. In the morning, Iwaizumi will pour his heart out to Tooru anyway. In the morning, Tooru will kiss Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi will kiss him back.

  
(But Tooru doesn’t know that yet.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please [send me prompts](http://daisukiwa.tumblr.com), because this is the shit I come up with when left to my own devices.


End file.
